


Normal.

by Coloured_Rainbow



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Gen, Peter and Gamora are theives, groot his adorable and oblivious as always, its a living, rocket and peter dont get along, rocket cares about groot, rocket now works at 7/11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:13:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23455321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coloured_Rainbow/pseuds/Coloured_Rainbow
Summary: Rocket glared at the screen when he read in big, white letters: QUILL.“What the hell do you want?” Rocket hissed.“Hey man, I--”“No no no,” Rocket interrupted. “Actually, let me rephrase that. What part of that small, idiot brain of yours told you it was a good idea to call me?"‐-------Or: Modern, Human AU
Relationships: Groot & Rocket Raccoon, Peter Quill & Rocket Raccoon
Kudos: 11





	Normal.

**Author's Note:**

> I rewatched Guardians with my sister and pumped out this quick one shot because I just love Rocket so much kdndmdn
> 
> If you're subscribed and waiting for my Bojack fic to update, I'm sorry ;-; it's coming soon, I swear. I hope this little story will suffice in the meantime.

“Groot.”

“Hm?”

“It’s two in the morning.”

“Mhm.”

“So why did I just hear a can open?” Rocket leaned up against the living room doorway, crossing arms when Groot didn’t answer. “What are you drinking?”

Groot held up a Coke can before unceremoniously taking a drink, liquid pouring down his beard and onto his shirt.

“One of these days you’re gonna have to learn how to drink out of a can, y’know,” Rocket smirked. Groot looked away from the TV to shoot him a glare. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll get you a cup. You want ice?”

Groot smiled, nodding. 

Rocket mindlessly stared at the TV for a few moments before backing up into the kitchen, standing on the tips of his toes to reach into the cupboard. Just as his hand wrapped around the handle, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He slowly lowered his hand, nervously moving to answer the call--someone phoning in past midnight couldn’t be anything too good. 

Seems he was right. Rocket glared at the screen when he read in big, white letters: QUILL.

He quickly answered it, holding the phone close to his mouth as he hissed out, “What the hell do you want?”

“Hey man, I--”

“No no no,” Rocket interrupted. “Actually, let me rephrase that. What part of that small, idiot brain of yours told you it was a good idea to call me, let alone on my personal cell?”

“Rocket--”

“Unprofessional bastard.”

“Jesus,” Peter sighed. “Will you let me get two words out?”

“Not unless those two words are ‘good’ and ‘bye,’ exclusively in that order.”

“You’re my friend, so I called your personal. Okay?”

“Friend,” Rocket chuckled dryly. “Yeah. Okay. So for what friendly reason did you call today, huh?”

“It’s--”

“‘Cause a friend wouldn’t call about money.”

“...Oh, uh--”

“Or about a… job.” Rocket paused, nodding to himself when Peter didn’t respond right away. “Yeah. So what about it, huh friend? What do you want.”

“Me and Gamora were…” Rocket rolled his eyes at Peter’s disdained sigh. “We were going on--”

“Don’t say it.”

“Yes! We were gonna invite you on a job, okay?” Peter raised his voice, the cheap speaker on Rocket’s phone crackling. “We haven’t seen you in a while and Gamora thought it would be good for us to hang out again.”

“Let me guess. After I left, you didn’t find another friend because of some weird ‘I don’t need anyone except my girl’ complex, but now even your chick is sick of you.”

“N--!”

Rocket waited patiently, listening to the rustling noises of the phone being passed around. 

“Yes,” came Gamora’s voice. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Rocket half-heartedly greeted. “How’s married life treatin’ ya? Seems like a blast.”

“Rocket,” she said softly. “Can you just come down and make up? One of you needs to be the bigger man, and we both know it isn’t going to be Peter.” Rocket grinned at the sound of Peter distantly complaining. “Please?”

“Sorry, hun, but I ain’t in the business no more. We’ve been over this.”

“Come on. You’re never really out of the business, we both know that.”

“I am, though!” Rocket argued, glancing out the kitchen door to make sure Groot couldn’t hear him. He cleared his throat, lowering his voice. “I’m out. I got a job--a real one. We’re livin’ in an actual apartment; we ain’t havin’ to hop from place to place; we ain’t runnin’ from no one. It’s nice, Gamora. And it sure as hell is what’s better for Groot.”

There was a sharp noise and then Peter was back on the speaker. “Man, you’re still hanging around that guy? He’s, like, a forty-year-old baby.”

“Like you’re anythin’ different?” Rocket retorted. “Look, dude. It’s over. I ain’t that person anymore. I’m a freakin’ cashier at a Seven-Eleven. I just got a blue vest, which my manager said was pretty good for how long I’ve been there. Soon he said I might get a raise! That’s who I am now.”

“Are you kidding me?” Peter laughed humorlessly. “You gave up everything we had to hand out slushies to junkies?”

“Y’know, I could be the bigger man,” Rocket said. “I could, I really could if I wanted--but guess what? I don’t want to. You only want what’s good for you!”

“No I--!”

“You wanna throw your life away? Fine by me!”

“I--”

“But I'll always be a place to stay.”

“...What?”

Rocket let out a long breath. “I get if you wanna keep goin’ on these jobs. Hell knows I did my time. You wanna steal and rob and crash here sometimes, that’s cool--but you gotta let me do my own thing. And my thing, currently, is slushies.”

“You know this is where you belong,” Peter quietly replied. “This is where you belong, man. Out here, sneaking into places, scaling buildings. That’s the shit you were born to do!”

“No it ain’t,” Rocket stated. “It’s a lonely life to live, Quill.”

“This is just because of that hippie, isn’t it? If it weren’t for him, you’d still be out here.”

“Yeah. He’s done a hell of a lot more good for me than you have.” 

“It’s been, like, two months. You’ll be back.”

“Oh, will I?”

“Yeah,” Peter said with an air of confidence. “I know it for a fact. You aren’t cut out for normal. You can work at your job and hang out with that buddy of yours, but at the end of the day, all you have is your art. The art of being a freaking badass, dude.”

Rocket paused, gritting his teeth. “I’m gonna make it last, this time.”

“It never does.”

The last thing Rocket heard before he hung up was an exasperated Gamora calling his name. He stared at the empty black screen for a few seconds before putting the phone back in his pocket.

He hated that the bastard was right. Rocket knew about the hole in him--the one that could only be filled with the thrill of being on the run, but he had to fight it for Groot. Living this life is what would keep them both safe, even if it meant that Rocket would have to deal with that deep, gaping hole that he carried everywhere with him. 

“Sorry it took me a second,” Rocket said, holding up a cup of ice. “Here, ya big lug.” 

Groot took the cup with a smile, pouring his soda inside. Rocket stood next to the couch with his arms awkwardly at his sides, looking at the TV without really paying attention to what was playing. Groot took a sip of his drink and gently nudged Rocket’s arm, patting the seat next to him. 

Rocket smiled, sitting down next to him. 

“On season two already, huh?”

“Mhm.”

“You’re gonna burn through all your shows if you ain’t careful.”

Groot shrugged, giving him a look. 

“Yeah, but you’d just rewatch ‘em, huh?”

“Mhm.”

Settling back into the couch, Rocket let out a content sigh. 

…

Normal. 

This is what he wanted. He wanted to be normal and enjoy it, and that’s what he intended to do. 

At least until that hole inside him pulled him back. 

He’s sure that Quill will get a kick out of that phone call when it comes.


End file.
